


The Gift of Giving

by fleet_of_red



Category: Red Dead Redemption, Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, POV Child, Slice of (Camp) Life, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 00:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16903035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleet_of_red/pseuds/fleet_of_red
Summary: Jack Marston is an inquisitive four-year old who observes more than his parents and all the aunts and uncles around him give him credit for. He notices how his Uncle Arthur tries to raise morale around the camp and decides to return the favor.Inspired by the camp companion item requests and told from Jack's viewpoint.





	The Gift of Giving

Jack Marston has lived in more places than most. Places like a crocodile infested bayou, atop the snowy mountains in the west, even an old mining camp on the edge of a big city; just to name a few. Some he has lived in longer than others, some just a few days, others months, maybe even a year. Now he finds himself in yet another home, and while he wonders how long this home might last, he finds himself delighted. “This is the best place yet!” 

Their current camp is set up by Clemens Cove near the bustling town of Rhodes, and it overlooks the calm waters of Flat Iron Lake. When the sun rises in the morning, there is typically a blanket of mist over the water, providing a serene shroud around the camp. He can often find Uncle Dutch contemplating by the docks with a pipe in his hand. He tells him that camping out in the open nature like that, it feels as if they can all leave the past behind and start anew. Jack isn’t sure what that means, but he finds himself nodding along anyway. 

There are no playmates his age in the camp, but Jack has so many aunts and uncles who look after him. It is the middle of the afternoon and he’s playing by the grassy fields near the camp. His eyes follow a trail of black ants going back and forth between their nest and a dead grasshopper. Fascinated, Jack tries to disrupt the trail by setting rocks and twigs in the ants’ path. Yet, somehow, the ants are still able to pick up the path left by their brethren and find their way back home. 

Jack thinks about squishing some ants along the trail--an easy task, of course. He wants to know if the bodies of its dead brothers would deter the other ants from continuing...but before he can execute his plan, he starts feeling sorry for them. Silly ants, he thinks, following the one in front blindly towards the promise of a big meal without noticing that at any moment, a four-year old boy can stomp his boot down and squish them all.

In the near distance, he hears the sound of a horse trotting back to camp carrying the man he’s been waiting for. Arthur Morgan, the senior enforcer and one of the most trusted and respected members of the Van der Linde gang returns carrying a carcass of an animal on one shoulder. Jack abandons the ants and runs to join his favorite uncle. 

“Welcome back, Uncle Arthur,” he greets him, his short legs taking four steps for each one of the man’s longer strides. 

“You alright there, Jack?” Arthur asks, slowing his pace down. 

The boy nods and stares at the carcass on his shoulder with wide-eyes, “That a wolf you got there?” 

“That’s right. This one tried to take a bite out of my horse, but I was quicker!” The man chuckles and shifts the weight on his shoulder. “Mr.Pearson is gonna make something nice with this.”

There are those in the camp whose company Jack enjoys more than others. Miss Grimshaw is stern and always busy with chores of running the camp; Jack tries to stay out of her way. Aunt Karen makes what his mother calls, ‘mean-spirited jokes’, and Herr Strauss says children should be seen not heard. And he will always remember how Uncle Micah tripped him once and laughed. 

Then there is wise Uncle Hosea who is teaching him how to read--”Just like how I taught your daddy,” he reminisces more than once. “He didn’t like reading much in the beginning, but I got to him eventually. And you are way smarter than  _ he _ ever was.” 

And of course, Uncle Arthur, who takes him fishing and never minds listening to him even when he is tired. Ma said that the camp--and Pa especially--owes him their lives more than once. 

“Is Mr.Pearson gonna make another skull ornament like he did with the big horn ram you brought back?”

“Maybe...I wasn’t sure anyone noticed the ram skull, to be honest,” Arthur chuckles warmly then adds, “I’m glad someone did though.”

“Yes, and mother said it was you who gave the boar pelts to Mr.Pearson to make that nice rug for us. It’s mighty comfortable!”

“Well, I’m just glad y’all making good use of it. Maybe when you’re older, I’ll take ya out hunting for boars, what’d you say? There are plenty in the area,” Arthur suggests as they walk through the camp. 

“Is that gonna to be as boring as fishing?” the boy asks and wrinkles his nose. 

Arthur ruffles his hair with his clean hand and snorts, “Even more so when you have to follow their trails silently for the best pelts! But patience comes with age, ain’t that right?” 

They arrive at Mr.Pearson’s butcher table and Arthur slides his trophy off his back. He shifts his sore muscles as the camp butcher and cook arrives to inspect the new offering. Jack examines the wolf now that it’s placed on the table and closer to his face. He has never seen a wolf this close before, dead or alive. Its tongue is rolled out between its sharp teeth and there is a patch of dark dried blood where Uncle Arthur’s arrow had pierced its’ heart. Off to the side, their dog, Cain, watches with interest, hoping it will get some scraps as the provision is carved up. 

Arthur finishes his conversation with Mr.Pearson and walks to the nearby cauldron to grab himself a late lunch. Jack continues to follow alongside him. 

“Mrs.Adler told me you got her a harmonica. She was playing it for me earlier by the campfire.”

“Did she now?” Arthur replies and spoons meaty stew into his mouth. He begin chewing and makes a face. The taste of the stew is never the same from one day to the next. It all depends on the ingredients available and whatever meat Mr.Pearson has thrown into the mix. Sometimes it’s mature venison or rabbit...sometimes it’s more questionable meat. “Well, maybe she’ll play some more tunes for the camp later.” 

“Umhmm, you got her that harmonica just like how you got me the Penny Dreadful comic book I asked for. And the pocket watch for Uncle Lenny, and the necklace for Aunt Tilly, and the fountain pen for Aunt Mary-Beth…” Jack lists off what he has observed. 

Arthur raises a brow as he listens to the boy. He tilts the steel plate and drains the rest of the broth before clearing his throat. “You’ve been keep an eye on me have you, Jack Marston?” he asks playfully in a faux-stern voice.  

“No, sir,” Jack giggles. “I just think it’s awfully nice of you ‘s all, bringing back what folks asked for.” 

“Ah, well, I guess...You come across all sorts of things while you travel here and there...It’s really no trouble,” the man says as he sets the empty plate down. “Well, except for that pipe I got for your Uncle Dutch. I had to fight off a bear to get that one,” he chuckles with a lopsided-smile and wipes his mouth with the back of his gloved-hand. 

Jack’s eyes go wide and he gasps, “A bear?”

“Yup, a bear,” Arthur confirms with a nod. “A mighty one at that!”

For a moment, Jack is quiet, his small brows furrowing in concentration. Then he looks up and announces, “Uncle Arthur, I’ve decided. I’m gonna get  _ you _ something  _ you _ want. So just tell me, and I’ll do my very best to get it for you!”

The older man arches his back and laughs. At seeing his reaction, the four-year old pouts. “I’m serious!” he whines with indignation. 

Arthur stifles his laughter and says, “Alright then...how ‘bout you be good for your Ma and Pa?”

The boy turns his nose up at the suggestion and complains, “That’s not a  _ thing _ . Can’t you think of a thing you want? Or...or something you  _ need _ ?” he asks with a note of desperation. Arthur purses his lips and glances around the camp. 

Nearby, Charles and Kieran are brushing their horses while trading riding tips. The girls--Karen, Tilly, and Mary-Beth--are knitting and chatting under the shade of a tarp as Miss Grimshaw furrows her brows nearby at the amount of idle chatter she hears, no doubt. The Reverend, Uncle, Hosea, and Lenny are playing an intense game of Poker--Hosea chuckles as he flashes his winning hand. John is walking shoulder to shoulder with Abigail, helping her carry a basket of clean laundry back from the lake. 

The others are sitting around the campfire exchanging tales of old heists, each with more embellishment than the previous. Dutch is reading a book, but catches Arthur looking and returns a nod and a smile. 

Arthur turns back to the boy waiting eagerly for an answer. He leans over slightly with his hands on his knees and answers, “Me? Nah, I got everything I need right here.” 

“Oh…Okay...” Jack whispers to his feet in disappointment. Of course, Uncle Arthur can easily ride into town to get any supply or ammunition he needs. And he can just as easily go hunting or fishing for anything he’d like. What can a silly boy like him get that Uncle Arthur cannot get for himself? 

“Hmm...actually, now that I think about it,” Arthur hum-and-haws loudly while he rubbing his chin in consideration, “There  _ is _ something I’d like that only  _ you _ can get for me, Jack!” 

Jack snaps his head up and looks at him with bright eyes. “Yes? What is it, Uncle Arthur?”

“You remember that day I took you fishin’? And you made your mama that pretty flower necklace?”

“Yes, sir!” Jack nods frantically and exclaims, “The one with the red flowers. I remember!” 

“Well, it looked mighty fine,” Arthur smiles at the boy’s eagerness. “Next time you see those flowers, why don’t ya make me one too?”

“ _ That’s _ what you want?” Jack frowns, not entirely unconvinced. 

“‘Course,” Arthur confirms. “I’ll even press and dry it so I can treasure it forever.”

The boy’s face is full of determination as he puffs up his chest and vows, “Okay, Uncle Arthur. I’ll do that. It’s a promise!” 

“You’re a good kid, Jack.” Arthur ruffles his hair and the boy beams with a toothy grin. 

Uncle Lenny walks over and grumbles, “Hey Arthur, I got some info on a stagecoach carrying valuables near Emerald Ranch, if you’re interested.” He then laments with a heavy sigh, “You wouldn’t believe how Hosea took us to the cleaners. I swear, he’s got a card or two up his sleeve.”

Nearby, Hosea retorts loudly, “I can hear you from here, Lenny. Don’t be a sore loser!” 

Arthur snickers with a shake of his head. He turns back to the young boy and says with a wink, “Run along now, Jack. Lenny and I got boring grownup things to discuss.” The boy listens and dashes off with a wide smile on his face. His mind races with plans on how he can fulfill his promise. 

Except...except not long after that, while most of the grownups were away on business in the nearby town of Rhodes, a man with a funny accent arrives to the camp and asks Jack to follow him.  

“My boss, Mr.Bronte, would like to meet you,” the man explains. “It’ll be fun.” They ride through the city of Saint Denis in a fancy stagecoach. It is the biggest, most crowded city Jack has ever seen, even more so than Black Water! 

Mr.Bronte lives in a nice big mansion and he lets Jack stay in a room filled with all sorts of toys. Not only that, they even give him a brand new set of clothes and he thinks this must be what being a prince feels like! For dinner, Jack eats spaghetti, an Italian dish that looks like worms but tastes really yummy. He can’t wait to ask Mr.Pearson to make some for the entire camp! 

When his family arrives to pick him up from the mansion days later, even their uneasy expression cannot dampen his excitement. They ride back to a new camp call Shady Belle, a place further south than the one by the lake. There is an old house where he and his parents have a room upstairs all to themselves. But Jack doesn’t like this new place. 

It is near the swamp and it is damp and full of mosquitoes! He also can’t find any red flowers nearby...none that he can see, anyway. His Mama misses him so much while he stayed with Mr.Bronte that she barely lets him out of her sight after that. That and the crocodiles nearby. Uncle Micah’s grin displays both rows of his teeth when he tells Jack that those reptiles would just  _ love _ to feast on a plump little boy like him. 

It doesn’t take along until Jack notices that Uncle Sean is missing. He likes Uncle Sean. He speaks with a funny accent as well, but in a different way than Mr.Bronte and his friends. When he asks the other aunts and uncles where he is, they brush him off and tell him to go play. 

The group soon finds out that Shady Belle isn’t very safe after all. His mother grabs him and hides him in their room as bad men arrive with guns. It is noisy and scary, and Jack never sees Uncle Kieran either after that day. 

Things go from bad to worse, and for a while, Jack thinks everyone might disappear one by one until he is all alone. 

Uncle Charles returns to the camp by himself late one evening, without the eight other men that had rode with him to Saint Denis earlier that day. His expression is grim as he yells for everyone to pack up immediately. Jack has never been so scared. “Where’s Pa?” he demands in his childish voice. “Where’s Uncle Arthur?” 

But his childish voice is easily drowned out over the chaos and panic of everyone packing to move, yet again. He sees fat tears roll down his mother’s face as she rolls up the boar pelt rug Uncle Arthur made for them. Jack finds himself unable to ask again. 

Uncle Charles and Mrs.Adler--just Aunt Sadie now--work tirelessly to protect their shrinking group as they travel further north in search for a safe place to camp. Just as he is beginning to think he won’t ever see them again, Uncle Arthur, Dutch, Bill, Javier and Micah returns one by one. Apparently, they had taken a boat to visit a tropical island faraway! Jack wonders if this has anything to do with Uncle Dutch’s plan with the mango farm. He wishes they had taken him along; he’d have liked to see the island too!

And soon after, Uncle Arthur and Mrs.Adler return with Pa as well...But even then, things are never the same. 

They move again, this time even further north to a place call Beaver Hollow. Jack thinks the cold weather upsets everyone. People don’t talk to one another as much, and when they do, they yell and scream. And he cannot find his dog, Cain. 

He remembers the promise he made to Uncle Arthur. Jack keeps an eye out for the red flowers, but they must not grow in the cold so far up north...That’s alright, Jack tells himself. They move so often after all, surely they will head back south soon. 

\------

_ Years later _

“Sit up straight, Jack,” his mother nags as she steers their wobbly wagon to go faster. “We should arrive soon...And what a place it’ll be with a name like ‘Beecher’s Hope’!” She repeats the name again under her breath like a fervent believer on Sunday. She has been like this ever since she received that letter from Pa telling them to join him at their new homestead...on their own land, no less.  

“It’ll be great, Ma,” Jack replies with what she wants to hear. But the only thing drier than his tone is the barren land he sees around them. He shifts his posture and goes back to reading his book; his favorite, no, only method of escape nowadays. 

Unsurprisingly, his father is out waiting eagerly for their arrival, but Jack didn’t expect to see two more familiar figures as they arrive at their newest home. 

“Is that Jack? Look how big you’ve gotten!” Uncle Charles claps a large hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be as tall as your old man soon!” 

Uncle is there too. He has a bottle of half-emptied whiskey in his hand as he cheers, “This calls for a celebration!”

Jack’s chest tightens as a wave of emotion threatens to drown him. For a moment, he is a young child again, surrounded by all his aunts and uncles around a roaring campfire. 

For the longest time now, it has been just him and his parents, who don’t really talk about those days, at least not around him. Sometimes he wonders how much of it was real and how much was just the active imagination of a four-year old. Jack’s no longer that naive child anymore. Still, he doesn’t expect he can miss  _ this _ so much it’d ache, even if it’s only a shadow of what he remembers. 

“I’ll go and unpack my things,” he mutters to the ground in an attempt to hide the wetness in his eyes. He pushes pass them and into his new room. He grabs the small suitcase containing all his earthly belongings and starts sorting the items. A book slips from his fingers and lands onto the floor with a  _ plop _ . 

It’s his old Penny Dreadful comic book, the one he’s leafed through a million times as a child. The one that Uncle Arthur brought back for him. 

The corners are torn and the colors all but faded. The tears in his eyes threaten to fall as he thumbs through the pages once again. 

To his great shame, Jack can barely remember what his Uncle Arthur looked like. There is a photograph of a young Uncle Arthur and a woman--an unrequited lover, his mother had told him once-- in the satchel he gave to his father before he met his end. He barely looked a few years older than Jack is now, and Jack has trouble reconciling the image of that fresh, boyish face with his faded memories of a man that was larger than life. 

“Pa…?” He asks after dinner some time later, as his father smokes a cigarette on their front porch. The sun is beginning to set, casting a pink and purplish hue in the dimming sky.

“What is it, Jack?” John asks while he scans the horizons for coyotes that might linger too close to their property. 

Jack isn’t sure how to broach the subject. He runs a shaky hand through his hair as he mutters, “I...I overheard Uncle Charles say that he buried Uncle Arthur.”

“Hmm…he did,” his father confirms with a low voice. He doesn’t turn around to look at his son, instead, he snuffs the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “It was nice of him to do that.”

“And I was wondering…” the young man continues, trying his hardest to still his voice. “If you could take me there? To visit his gravesite, I mean?” 

John turns around to look at him then. The older man’s expression unreadable under the rim of his hat and the dimming light. 

Jack knows that it would take days to travel up to where Uncle Arthur is buried, even if they take the train. And even then, they will have to hike up the mountain. It’s a dangerous and costly trip, just as they are busy starting their new life on a farm. He sighs and tries again, “I...I have something I wanted to give him. Something he had asked me for.”

“What is it?” 

“A flower necklace,” Jack answers. The red flowers are abundant in the fields nearby. Their form, waving in the breeze, has been burned into his mind. 

John blinks almost comically. “Arthur asked you for a necklace...made of flowers?” 

“Yes, sir. He did.” Jack returns his father’s questioning gaze. His voice suddenly steady and unwavering as he adds, “And I promised him I would.” 

The young man readies for more questions or expressions of concern from his father, or even an outright rejection. There are none. 

“Well, okay then,” John nods once and that was that. “Guess you better keep that promise.”

  
  



End file.
